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About Naples

Findin’ a prostitute? It’s old as dirt, y’all. Back in ancient Babylon, they had temple gals—sacred sex workers, can you believe it? Wild! Made me happy knowin’ history’s got layers, ya feel? Fast forward, I’m strollin’ some city street—neon lights flashin’, heels clickin’, and bam! There’s this chick, workin’ her strut, ownin’ it. “Slay!” I whisper to myself—she’s fierce, unbothered, like me on stage. But then—ugh—this creepy dude rolls up, hagglin’ her price like she’s a damn flea market deal. Pissed me off! I’m like, “Boy, bye—respect the hustle!”

The De-Victimalization of the Prostitute

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After my gelato break, I head back to the studio. Guess what? My clay is back! Turns out, Marco just moved it to the other side of the room. I could’ve lost it! But hey, I’m back in business. I start molding and shaping, and it feels good. Like, really good. I’m in my zone, and suddenly, I’m making this beautiful bowl. I’m talking Picasso-level stuff here.

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